


easy as pie (harder than diamonds)

by jesm



Series: falls like this (slowly, easily, brightly) [2]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pre-Slash, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29645091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesm/pseuds/jesm
Summary: Buck falls in love easily, with a glance, a smile, a touch. Falls in love like this.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Ali Martin, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: falls like this (slowly, easily, brightly) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178318
Comments: 12
Kudos: 157
Collections: 9-1-1 Tales





	easy as pie (harder than diamonds)

**Author's Note:**

> Technically part two, but could be read first or as a stand-alone. This is Buck’s POV, also taking place throughout seasons 2 and 3. I’ve included details in the end notes in case it’s not clear where each scene falls. It’s also generally cannon compliant, at least through Buck Begins and we’ll see how things go after that.  
> I’m really enjoying writing this series so hope you enjoy reading!

There is no revelation. No Eureka moment. No oh, this _,_ you, you’re the _one_.

Buck falls in love easily. Falls in love with a touch, with a glance, with a smile. Falls in love over and over. Like a puppy, happy, eager, tail wagging for every scratch, every ball, every kind word of praise. This is how Buck falls in love.

Buck knows this isn’t how other people fall in love. It’s not how love stories are told—sweeping, life-changing love stories that strike at first sight and never fade. It’s not how he watched Bobby and Athena or Maddie and Chimney fall in love, with work, with uncertainty, with starts and stops along the way. It’s not how Hen talks about Karen. It’s not even how Maddie fell in, and, thankfully, out of love with Doug. It’s not how Abbey fell in love with him, he knows.

But it is how he fell in love with her. Easily. Such that they hadn’t even met yet and he was waiting for their next call, like talking to her and hearing her voice was the oxygen he needed to breathe. He knew he had fallen too far too fast, but he tried to follow Bobby’s advice. He fit himself into Abby’s life. He tried to show he supported and cared for her, without showing her too much of his lonely, needy self. It went well, until it didn’t.

So he wrote her a letter, moved out, and started over. And he promised himself he would grow and not just take what’s easy. Buck 2.0.

He slips sometimes.

When he hooks up with Taylor. Because it’s simple, the way she looks at him in the bar with obvious intent, and it feels good to be wanted for something. Then he’s standing with his pants undone in the parking lot and the good feeling is a hundred miles away, drowning in the ocean, getting eaten by a shark.

When he kisses Eddie a few months into their friendship. They’re at Eddie’s. It’s just the two of them with Chris at Abuela’s for the night, and they’ve been drinking and playing games for hours despite coming off a long shift. Buck’s still too wound up to sleep, buzzing with adrenaline and beer—not the best cocktail for sensible decisions—but underneath he’s lonely and still pinning after Abby. He steels a glance, marveling at how _good_ Eddie looks. Eddie catches his gaze and smiles like he thinks Buck’s special. So, unthinking, Buck leans over and kisses him, starts to press him back into the couch, but Eddie goes tense under Buck’s hands. 

Buck jerks away, stammering curses and apologies, and God, it’s been years since he’s gotten signals that wrong. He prepares himself leave, to potentially never come back, but Eddie catches his arm before he can really stand and pulls him back down, close enough their knees still touch. Buck has trouble parsing Eddie’s words through the noise in his own head, but he gets the gist of the message: _it’s okay._ Buck has not committed an unpardonable sin against their friendship. He let’s Eddie calm him down—with another game, more snacks, and a knee still pressed against his while they play—before he leaves. They don’t talk about the kiss again.

So there’s no revelation. No Eureka moment. No oh, this _,_ you, you’re the _one_.

Buck falls in love with Eddie easily, and falls out easily as well. Falls over and over, like this.

* * *

“How long after Shannon left before you started dating again?” Buck asks. Eddie shoots him a _what-the-fuck_ look and Buck figures he’s not going to answer.

“I didn’t, really.” Eddie says finally, with a nonchalant sort of shrug, and that derails the whole direction of Buck’s thoughts. It’s like Abby telling him she hadn’t been on a date in a year; he just can’t relate. 

“What? Like at all?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You know, dating’s not that simple with a kid and working three jobs.” 

It sounds like a practiced answer, the sort of automatic excuse you give someone when you’re just not that interested and Buck thinks it’s weird, that Eddie’s giving him this response now. It’s not like he’s asking Eddie out. 

“Is Chris really the reason you didn’t date? Chris is awesome. I bet plenty of people would be thrilled to date a single dad with a kid like Chris.” 

Eddie snorts and shakes his head, but his slight smile is fond. “Seriously, Buck, what’s this about?”

Oh, right. “Everyone keeps saying I’ve been single for months, just because Abby left. But I haven’t felt single, you know? So I just figured after Shannon left…”

Eddie grabs two beers from the fridge and drops down into the kitchen chair next to Buck’s, sliding one bottle over to him. 

“It took me a month or so to realize she wasn’t coming back and figure out I wasn’t going to follow her. At least not like that.” He amends, because he did, in fact, end up in the same city as Shannon. “You’re single when you feel like you’re single, Buck. Not when Chim or whoever says you should be. My parents did the same thing. Just weeks after Shannon left, they started dropping hints. And then it was stronger hints and women’s phone numbers and blind dates. God, it was so frustrating. Even if I was ready to move on, it wasn’t going to be with some daughter of a cousin of a friend of my parent’s who I had nothing in common with.” 

“Thanks.” Buck says and just hearing that it’s okay not to be ready, he feels a little lighter and a little more ready. Maybe he’ll call Ali back. “You know, if there’s anything _you_ want to talk about, or need to work out, I’m here for that.” 

Buck admits, at least to himself, that he’s wildly curious about what’s going on between Eddie and his ex-wife—current wife, he isn’t sure. But there’s something, Buck’s certain. Eddie’s been stressed out about it since around Halloween. 

“Dad! I’m ready.” Chris yells. Eddie smiles like he’s just been saved.

“Be right there, buddy.” Eddie calls and gets up. “He’s ready and I promised he could play one game after he brushed his teeth.” He nods to Buck. “You joining?” 

“Only if we get to play the one with the paint guns.”

Eddie snorts. “Sure. And we can play grown up video games after I get Chris to bed.”

“I actually kind'a like the one with the paint guns. It’s cute and Chris gets _so_ into it.” 

Buck follows Eddie into the living room, where Chris is dressed in PJ’s and perching eagerly on the edge of the couch. 

“Are you going to stay and play with us, Buck?” Chris asks.

“Yeah, if that’s okay with you, bud?”

Chris nods, already scooting towards the center of the couch to make room for Buck. So Buck sits down on one side of Chris while Eddie sits on the other and gets the game stared. 

Somewhere in the middle of a paint battle, with Chris elbowing him in the ribs to distract him and Eddie laughing at them both, Buck realizes he’s having more fun than he has outside of work in a long time. The thought startles and distracts him enough that he’s definitely about to lose the game. Eddie wins, Chris second, and they both gloat, which should not be as charming as it is.

Buck waits in the living room while Eddie tucks Chris into bed, sipping at the dregs of his beer and loath to leave. He is ready to really move on from Abby, preferably without hooking up with Taylor again. He could call Ali back. Or he _could_ ask Eddie out, and the latter’s more appealing in the moment. As soon as he knows what’s up with Eddie’s ex.

Buck hears the click of Chris’ door and then Eddie’s footsteps to the kitchen and back. Eddie drops another beer into Buck’s hand and sits in the armchair near Buck’s end of the couch.

“We never got divorced.” Eddie says, conveniently picking up the thread of their earlier conversation. “After she was gone, or after she didn’t come back, it was easy to just leave things as they were. And I was scared.” 

“Scared?” Buck leans towards him.

“That she’d want custody of Chris, if I filed for divorce. Not as punishment or anything,” Eddie rushes to assure, like it’s important Buck not get a bad impression of this woman he’s never met, “but just that, by upsetting the status quo, she’d change her mind. And she wouldn’t have been wrong.”

Eddie takes a slow sip of his beer, eyes downcast, and the expression on his face pulls at Buck’s heart.

“Eddie, you’re a great dad.”

Eddie huffs and shakes his head, but his expression brightens a little. “Now, maybe. I’m trying. But I wasn’t before. Any judge in the world would have seen that and given Shannon custody and I…I don’t know what I would have done. So I didn’t reach out. And then after a while, I was less afraid she’d want custody and more afraid she wouldn’t—that she wouldn’t want anything to do with either of us and that would break Chris’ heart again.”

“But you’re in contact now?” Buck asks. 

“The school needed to talk to her. And she did go in and settle everything with the school, showed up for Chris. She wants to be part of our lives again.” 

Buck doesn’t miss the way Eddie phrases it as _our_ lives. Not Chris’ life, because she’s his mom, but Chris and Eddie’s life, because the three of them might be a family.

“What do you want?” Buck asks.

“I have no fucking clue.” Eddie laughs without humor and shrugs. “It’s what’s best, right? She’s Chris’ mom and we were good together once. Maybe forgiving her and trying again is what moving on looks like for me.” 

_Oh_. Buck practically downs his beer. That answers the question he never got to ask. 

* * *

Buck wakes up feeling completely disoriented, even after he blinks Eddie’s face into focus. Everything’s stiff and hurting, from where the dull rim of his plastic chair is digging into the shell of his ear to where his ankle is twisted uncomfortably under the armrest of another one, so the first thing that comes out of his mouth is a soft _ugh_.

Eddie’s shoulders shake in a soundless chuckle and he smiles annoyingly at Buck’s discomfort. Buck’s clothes are disgusting, tacky with sweat and crusted with dried blood, and he grimaces when he catches a whiff of how strongly he smells.

Buck scrubs at his eyes to try to clear his thoughts, but he’s still confused. 

“Eddie, what—” 

Eddie presses his fingers to his lips to shush him and nods over to where Maddie’s asleep in her hospital bed. Buck nods and doesn’t speak for the several minutes it takes him to coordinate his limbs enough to get up and follow Eddie into the hall. 

“Eddie, what’re you doing here?”

“I came to pick you up and get you home.” 

Buck’s shaking his head before Eddie even finishes. “I should stay with Maddie. They aren’t going to release her for a few days. And…with what happened with Doug—”

“Maddie’s the one who suggested someone come pick you up. Maddie’s fine, Buck. She’s being taken care of. But you need a night’s sleep in a bed, and a meal that doesn’t come out of a vending machine. And a shower and change of clothes, ideally.” 

“I can’t…I can’t leave her, Eddie.” Buck says. 

There’s understanding on Eddie’s face. He places one hand on Buck’s arm and the other on his shoulder with a light squeeze. His voice is firm but gentle when he responds. 

“It’ll just be a bit. You can come back first thing tomorrow. I’ll drive you myself if you need. But you’re freaking everyone out, including Maddie. First rule of trauma, you have to take care of yourself before you can take care of someone else, right?”

He holds Buck’s gaze until Buck nods reluctantly.

“Good. Com’on, let me get you home.”

Buck notices the clock for the first time when Eddie starts his truck. “Shit, Eddie, it’s almost midnight. Where’s Chris?” 

“He’s at his mom’s tonight.” 

“I’m sorry. And you missed all of yesterday with him too, at the hospital with Chim. You didn’t have to come—shouldn’t have.” 

Eddie shakes his head as he merges onto the freeway. The streetlights cast his face into odd shadows that make his expression unreadable. 

“I wanted to come. Chris was worried about you. I was worried about you.” Eddie says, voice soft. 

Buck turns to the window, watching the streaks of the world passing by, and rests his temple on the cool glass. He can feel Eddie casting glances his way, but he doesn’t try to make small talk or press for Buck to say anything else. 

Buck drifts. Until they’re pulling into Eddie’s driveway and the truck’s engine sputters and clicks as it turns off. Buck lets out a heavy breath in the silence that follows, not realizing he’d been dreading going back to Maddie’s until they don’t. _Is it still a crime scene now that Doug’s dead? Has Chim’s blood been cleaned up?_

Eddie lets them in. The house feels big and empty without Chris. Or maybe that feeling is a symptom of Buck’s exhaustion.

“I grabbed your extra change of clothes from the station. We can get something else from Maddie’s in the morning and pick up your jeep, if you want. I didn’t have a key, and didn’t think you’d want to head straight there.” 

Eddie sounds uncertain, anxious even, so Buck shakes himself back to the present moment. 

“Thanks Eddie. For everything. This is…you didn’t have to do all that.” 

“There are clean towels in the bathroom and I set out something for you to sleep in. Use whatever else you want.” 

“Th—”

“And stop thanking me. You’d do the same for any of us. Just shout if you need anything.” 

Buck feels infinitely better after a hot shower. He scrubs until his skin is flushed red and he’s sure there’s no lingering trace of Maddie’s blood. Eddie’s soap looks expensive and organic, and disappointingly smells like nothing at all. His shampoo and conditioner are the same, and he has an impressive array of other hair products, which Buck enjoys rifling through but otherwise leaves untouched. 

The sweats and the t-shirt Eddie left out for him are soft and well-worn, though both a little too small. He pulls on Eddie’s LAFD sweatshirt too, because even though it’s plenty warm in the house, he feels the need for an extra layer of comfort. 

Eddie’s waiting up in the kitchen, changed into cut-off sweats and a t-shirt and leaning back against the counter by the stove, where the teakettle is on and just starting to hum.

“You hungry?” Eddie asks as soon as Buck joins him.

“It’s the middle of the night.” 

“And when’s the last time you had any real food?”

Buck shakes his head. “I’m not hungry. I don’t think I could eat.” 

The kettle whistles and Eddie pours the hot water into two waiting mugs. He sets both out on the table, taking a seat and making Buck feel like he has no choice but to join. It’s effective, if a little irritating. The tea smells sweet and spicy, with surprising hints of ginger and pepper, but it’s soothing when it hits his tongue. 

“You look less like a zombie, at least.” Eddie says after they’ve had some time to sip their tea in silence. “And you smell better.” 

“No thanks to your completely boring taste in bath products. Would a fragrance kill you?”

“Well we can’t all walk around smelling like Spring Rain, or whatever.”

“It’s Pine Forest, I’ll have you know. It’s woodsy and masculine.” Buck quips back. It’s also going straight into the trash when he gets home, for however long the sent of pine reminds him of bloody snow and Maddie stumbling through the trees.

“How are you doing?”

“I keep thinking, what if we didn’t find her when we did? Or if Doug had…had overpowered her."

“I know.” Eddie says.

“It was so close. If she hadn’t…I almost lost her, Eddie. I just got her back and I…I could have…”

Eddie takes the mug out of his shaking hands and kneels next to him, placing one hand reassuringly on Buck’s leg.

“You didn’t. Maddie survived. She fought and survived. And you fought for her too. I know it’s not easy to stop thinking about what _could_ have happened. But think about what actually happened, too, okay? Maddie’s amazing. You both are. And you have each other.” 

The look Eddie gives him is intense. Buck nods. Eddie studies him for another beat before getting up and taking the mugs to the sink. 

Buck feels scraped raw inside and out by the events of the last couple days. Maddie’s the only real family he’s ever had. It had broken his heart when she’d left with Doug and they’d lost contact after. But having her back this year, Buck felt like he’d found a real home—friends, family, job—possibly for the first time in his life. Almost loosing any piece of that was gut-wrenching. 

Eddie taps his shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts, and nods towards the hall. “Let’s get you to bed. Before you fall asleep in that chair and do some real damage to your neck.” 

Buck follows Eddie automatically and unthinkingly, tuning the corners he does and sitting when Eddie takes his shoulders and presses down. Only then does it register that he’s perched on the edge of the bed in Eddie’s room.

“Uh?”

“You’ve been sleeping in hospital chairs. Unless you have some _issue_ about sharing a bed, you’re not sleeping on the couch or in Chris’ twin. The whole point is for you to get a good night’s sleep.”

Eddie yanks back the covers with more force than is strictly necessary and fixes Buck with a glare like he’s daring him to protest or say thank you again.

“Okay, but I should warn you I’ve been called a cuddlepus on several occasions.”

“Cuddlepus?” Eddie raises his eyebrows and looks unimpressed.

“Cuddle octopus.” 

“I’m concerned by the fact that you’ve known and slept with _multiple_ people who use the term cuddlepus.” 

Buck shrugs and gives Eddie that point. He shuffles back on the bed and tucks his cold toes under Eddie’s comforter. The mattress is too firm for his taste, especially now that he’s gotten used to the air mattress, but his body feels like he hasn’t stretched out horizontally in weeks instead of just a day and melts into it thankfully. The mattress dips as Eddie turns off the bedside lamp and settles next to him. 

Despite his exhaustion, Buck doesn’t want to close his eyes. His mind is hyper-focused on recent events—coming home to find Chim bleeding outside, the sickening moment when he realized Maddie was gone, the long, terrifying hours in the car with Athena, Maddie falling into his arms. His heart hammers, loud in the quiet stillness of Eddie’s bedroom.

Eddie sighs next to him. “Buck?”

“Sorry.” Buck whispers. 

He tries to slow his breathing and the slamming of his heart, to let Eddie, at least, get some sleep, even if he’s a lost cause himself. Eddie shifts and then he’s tugging and pushing at Buck until Buck’s laying on his side with his head pillowed on Eddie’s chest and Eddie’s arm around his shoulders. 

“You said you were a cuddler.” Eddie says, light and teasing. “No thank yous and no apologies. You okay to sleep?”

Eddie’s presence is warm and grounding, with the rise and fall of his breathing and the weight of his hand on Buck’s arm. Buck nods against his chest, closes his eyes and drifts off.

* * *

“I think what Buck 2.0 needs is his own big boy apartment. Someplace that gets some natural sunlight.” Ali says.

Buck doesn’t figure its worth pointing out he’s not home enough to care much about sunlight. He’s been looking at apartments for months, has almost signed leases a few times, but he’s just never been able to take the leap and commit. He’s never lived anywhere anyone would consider a big boy apartment—still sleeping on his sister’s air mattress, friend’s couches and in Ali’s hotel rooms at twenty-eight. He thinks of his friend’s places—homes full of families and gatherings. Even Maddie, who’s been in LA a lot less time than he has, has an adult apartment and owns more than she can fit in a suitcase and a duffle bag—dishes and multiple sets of bath towels and such—so maybe Ali has a point. 

She pulls back the curtains to reveal the downtown LA skyline. Buck groans and rolls over, squinting in the bright sunlight. Ali comes back to join him, pillowing her chin on his chest and smiling up at him.

“I may have found a few places with showings today.” She says.

“That’s what you want to do on my day off? Go look at apartments?” 

Ali strokes a hand across his stomach, tickling lightly. “Well, that at other things. But I’m a designer. Looking at apartments is fun for me. And I’d really love not to have to stay in hotel rooms all the time.”

Buck looks around at the downtown hotel suit her company paid for, pretty sure it’s fancier than anything he could rent in LA. “Ok. If you’re going to have fun, I wont turn down the help.”

Ali bounces up to her knees excitedly. “Great.” She presses a quick kiss to his lips as she stands. “Get dressed and we can go apartment hunting.”

Buck likes the loft. It’s open and roomy, looks adult without being too serious. It’s got a nice kitchen. It’s a decent location, not too far from the station, and the rent’s manageable. Ali appreciates the big windows. He could have Maddie and Chim over for dinner, Eddie and Chris for pizza and games. He’s going to need furniture. Hopefully Ali finds that fun too, because he really doesn’t want to go furniture shopping alone. 

Ali wraps her arms around his waist, leaning into his side. “You’re going to need some new furniture. Want help shopping before I have to go? Your strong fighter friends are in charge of carrying things in, though.” She says with a smile. 

Everything hurts. On the plus side, that means his leg and its uncomfortable cast aren’t top on his mind anymore, but the downside is that now he’s out of the hospital with its regular, push-button pain meds, everything hurts. His bruises have started to fade from their peak sunset colors, but they still ache and cover enough of his body he hasn’t found a way to avoid pressing all of them. Not surprising, considering he was thrown from a moving firetruck by a bomb and then pinned under it. Still, he’s ready to be past the everything hurts phase and on to the getting back to working shape phase. 

Ali’s already up, dressed and showered, and sipping coffee in the kitchen when Buck gingerly works his way into a sitting position. “Good morning.” She says. Ali has always been a morning person, happy and optimistic for whatever the day has in store, but now she sounds like it’s eight pm after a long day full of flight delays and LA traffic. _I’m not sure. I don’t know yet._

Buck doesn’t bother with good morning.

“You decided then. You’re breaking up with me.” Buck says. She looks hurt. Normally, he’d feel guilty about that and rush to offer an apology, but he’s too hurt himself, with everything, even if he knew it was coming. 

“Yes. I’m sorry.” Ali says. She stays sitting at the kitchen island and Buck isn’t going to try to get up either. His apartment feels huge. 

“Okay.”

“Evan, seeing you on TV, at the hospital, like that, I can’t go through that again. That life, it isn’t what I want. But it is what you want, and I wouldn’t dream of asking you to change that. You’re a great guy. I’m so amazed by what you do, but—”

“But it’s not for you. I’m not. I know. It’s fine.” 

Ali gets up and comes over to sit on the edge of the coffee table near him. “And I’m not right for you.” 

Buck wants to be angry at her for breaking up with him the morning after he got home from the hospital, which is only one step up from getting dumped _in_ the hospital, but he can’t summon any anger. He just feels alone, even with Ali still sitting right across from him, leaning in, hand on his leg.

“Yeah. Like I said, it’s fine.” 

Ali leans back and moves her hand. “Do you need anything? Before I go.” 

“Cup of coffee? I can manage with the crutches well enough. And can call Maddie if I need anything.” 

“Okay.” Ali gets him a cup of coffee and gives him a quick hug before she leaves.

Buck slumps on the couch. The click of the door seems abnormally loud. He drags over his phone then leaves it face down on the coffee table. Eventually, he’ll text Maddie, and Eddie and Bobby, but not until he’s at least finished his coffee.

This was probably never going to work out. It’s better to come to terms with that sooner than later.

Eddie lets himself in bearing a six pack of Buck’s favorite, a couple bags of chips, and a tupperware of cookies which Buck hopes Eddie didn’t make himself. 

“I come with provisions, and Bobby and Abuela both made cookies, but if you’re desperate for a pint of ice cream, I don’t mind running back down to the corner store.” 

Buck smiles despite how down he’s feeling. He doesn’t blame Ali, but he isn’t ready to thank her either. He’s feeling pretty good about thanking Eddie, though, as he comes in, sets things out on the coffee table, and hands Buck a beer. The cookies smell delicious when Eddie snaps the cover off the tupperware. He hands Buck one of those as well, even though he placed the container well within Buck’s reach. 

“Thanks, Eddie.” Buck says.

Eddie settles on the couch next to where Buck has his feet propped, careful not to jostle Buck’s cast. “How are you holding up?”

Buck flashes Eddie the brightest smile he can manage, but based on the thin-lipped, raised-eyebrow look he gets in return, it’s unconvincing. “I miss my bed.” 

Eddie glances up at the loft and gives Buck a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, you did have terrible timing on that. How’s the couch?” 

“Permanently imprinted. I sleep on it, sit here and binge Netflix all day. I’m going stir crazy already. Can’t wait to get the cast off, start PT, get back to work…” Eddie’s still giving him a sympathetic look, and he doesn’t say anything about how Buck’s voice get’s tighter and more desperate as he talks. Buck’s certainly spent his fair share of time in casts and hospitals, but he’s never been good at it, especially now that he has a job he loves doing and can’t. 

“In the meantime, me and this couch are in a committed relationship.”

Eddie chuckles. “Well, do your thumbs still work? We could play something.”

“Oh, I can definitely take you, even with this massive cast.” Buck boasts. Eddie does not look convinced.

Eddie sets up Street Fighter while Buck shifts around to prop his cast on the coffee table instead of the couch. Eddie hands him the controller and resettles in the middle seat. 

They play several rounds. Buck appreciate’s Eddies companionable silence interspersed with game-related small talk, boasting and challenges. Nothing about Buck’s leg, or Ali, or the giant, depressing question mark that is Buck’s future. Maddie’s been over a lot to help, and he loves her for it, but she’s his big sister and hasn’t been shy with her opinions about any of those things. Hanging out with Eddie is such a refreshing lack of pressure that Buck surprises himself when he finds his own way there.

“I miss her.” Buck says. Eddie glances over but doesn’t say anything, letting Buck continue at his own speed. “It’s stupid. She traveled all the time. We wouldn’t see each other for weeks when we were dating and it was fine, but now that we’ve been broken up for a few days, I miss her. A lot. What’s that about?” 

“It’s different. Getting dumped versus…just being absent. Maybe it’s not logical, but it’s different. I can relate.” Eddie says.

“You didn’t get dumped though.” Buck says. He shouldn’t be complaining about his personal life to Eddie, who had to bury his wife barely a month ago. 

“I did.” Eddie’s quite for a long moment. “Before the accident, Shannon dumped me. I asked her to marry me…re-marry me…and she asked for a divorce.” 

“I’m sorry Eddie. Are you—”

Eddie shrugs dismissively, like the he shouldn’t be a wreck after all that. Buck starts to scoot closer but his cast makes it awkward. Eddie slides over instead, pressing his knee against Buck’s. 

“I wasn’t even that disappointed and she was still going to be around. But she did dump me and it was different than when she just left the first time…somehow.”

“I wasn’t that disappointed either. Sad, but not disappointed.” Buck says hesitantly. It’s the first time he’s admitted that even to himself. 

“I was angry.” Eddie says, tone similar. “She said she was afraid to try, because she might fail again, like before, or worse. And I know I failed her, and Chris, so many times but I was always trying. And I hate that she wasn’t willing to. And now…” 

Eddie falls silent and Buck let’s him. As much as he’d love to fix everything for Eddie, he can’t do anything more about Shannon’s death than Eddie can do about his leg. 

“At least I got some closure this time. Ali was pretty clear about things when she broke up with me; she didn’t just disappear and wait for me to figure it out. Plus, Maddie thinks it’s for the best.” 

Eddie snorts. “Yeah, big sisters always think they know what’s best. Adrianna and Sophia are more nosey and opinionated than my mom, sometimes. They mean well, though, and I just try to keep in mind it comes from a place of love.”

“Maddie too. And she’s always cared more than my parents. So, how _are_ things going with your folks?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and evades the question by getting up to fetch them fresh cold beers from the fridge. He returns to the same spot on the couch and leans back, throwing his arm over the back of the couch behind Buck’s shoulders. 

“Well, I too am sleeping on my own couch.” Eddie says. 

It’s a casual comment. Buck studies his face—he looks relaxed, but there are faint dull circles under his eyes—and waits for the heart of what Eddie wants to say.

“They’ve been…fine…good…with Chris and the funeral, paperwork, meals…so yeah, it’s been helpful, having them here.”

“That’s good. Doesn’t mean you can’t be glad when they go home, too, though.” Buck offers. 

“They’re leaving first thing the morning after the ceremony, so I almost have my house back.” Eddie exhales and takes a deep breath. “They want me to move back to El Paso, after.” 

_No. No, no, no, not now._ “Oh? Are you considering that?” Buck asks.

“Considering.” Eddie says. 

Buck’s not ready for Eddie to leave, to disappear too. There’s also a quiet voice in his head that says he’ll probably never be ready for that, but it’s not his decision; he can’t keep the people he cares about from leaving.

“Is that what you want to do?”

“No.” Eddie says. Buck takes comfort in the speed of that response, even as Eddie’s quiet for a long time before adding, “no, I’m staying here.”

* * *

“Luckily Bosko’s the one who took the call. Plus Bobby’s big on second chances, otherwise Eddie would be in serious trouble for the fights. He nearly killed that guy.”

Chim drops the comment like it’s common knowledge and Buck whirls to stare at him, almost knocking the mixing bowl off the counter. 

“He did what?!” 

He feels knocked off his feet by a torrent of too many emotions to get his head around, but chief among them is absolute, utter disbelief. Eddie has many flaws—he prefers evasive quips to emotional vulnerability, doesn’t trust people until he decides they’re worthy, leaves wet towels on the floor, is hopeless in the kitchen and the yard, never asks for help—but Eddie is _not_ violent. 

He’s occasionally aggressive, when someone gets under his skin or in his face, but Buck figures those people are asking to be knocked down a peg, and Eddie does it by standing his ground and, surprisingly, using his words. Like when they first met and Buck was a brat— _What is your problem, man? What are we measuring here, Buck?_ That’s the Eddie Buck knows. And then Buck goes and screws up with the lawsuit and suddenly Eddie’s getting into street fights and beating guys unconscious?

“…what I heard from my buddy at the 136.” Buck catches only the tail end of what Chimney’s saying.

“Do you really think we should be talking about this? Sounds like it’s Eddie’s business.” Maddie says.

“Of course we should. The 118 tells each other everything. Buck, back me up here?” 

Maddie rolls her eyes but then narrows them, looking at Buck with concern. “Evan?”

Buck means to change the topic, to give himself time to get the mess swirling through his head under control, but that’s not what comes out of his mouth, voice pitched a little high and rough. “I knew. I knew something was wrong and he…he didn’t tell me. Why…but I _knew_.”

Chimney sobers. “I mean, he didn’t tell any of us, Backaroo. And we were with him all the time.” 

_When I wasn’t._

“Of course, Eddie’s not great with talking about his problems.” Chim adds.

“Yeah, but I know that too. I know that and I…I should’ve…I…” Buck stammers, voice catching in his troat. The point isn’t really that Eddie didn’t tell him something was wrong, though that hurts too. The point is that Buck didn’t _see_ it.

“Evan.” Maddie steps closer and sets her wine glass down on the counter. Chimney looks between them then promptly decides he needs something from his room and mumbles an excuse as he flees. “Evan, it’s not your responsibility to—”

“But it is. Eddie’s my best friend. If I’m not there for him when he needs…who will be?”

“His family. The rest of his friends. A therapist.”’

Buck know what Maddie’s trying to say, but she’s wrong. “No, Maddie, Eddie’s my—” he wants to say _best friend_ again, but the phrase isn’t right—not because it isn’t true, but because it doesn’t mean the same thing to Maddie as it does to him, like they’re speaking different languages. 

“Evan, you’ve had a really hard year. You almost _died_ and you’re only just getting better. I don’t think you should take on Eddie’s problems too.” Maddie says.

“I told him I’d have his back, Maddie. I promised. And then I wasn’t there when he needed me to be. I don’t want to be that kind of person. The kind that runs out on the people I love.” 

Maddie’s silence is heavy.

“I knew ages ago. Back when I saw him at the grocery store—shit, I’m pretty sure he got arrested for something—but it was the middle of the lawsuit so he couldn’t call me.”

“Evan—”

“Maddie, the whole time, with my leg, Eddie had my back. I could call him, when I didn’t want to bother you or Bobby—”

“You were never a bother.”

“—then when I couldn’t go back to work and didn’t want to even get out of bed, Eddie brought Chris over, he _trusted_ me with Chris.” 

Maddie makes a face, and he knows she’s thinking about how that particular day ended with a tsunami and Buck in the hospital again. 

“Even after I lost Chris, he still trusted me with him. And then I was so caught up in my own stuff that he couldn’t even call me when he needed. No wonder he didn’t tell me what was going on when I came back.”

“I know you care about Eddie. And he cares about you. But none of what Eddie’s been going through is your fault. You were going through a lot too and you have to take care of yourself first, before you can take care of anyone else." Maddie’s expression is intense and serious then it softens. “If you’re in a better place now, maybe you can help Eddie get there too.”

Buck’s not sure what sort of place he’s in, but he gives Maddie a smile he hopes is reassuring. Maddie studies his face another minute and seems to buy it. Buck goes back to making dessert while Chimney reemerges from his room. 

Buck tries to broach the subject with Eddie several times. Tries with jokes— _it was a phase, didn’t you just go through one of those?_ Tries with serious one-on-ones— _you can’t save someone from themselves, especially if you aren’t around to see that they need_ _saving; I’m sorry._ Tries with casual games— _want to go for the title?_

But all he gets are variations on _you’re forgiven_ , _we’re past that_ , _everything’s fine_ , like Eddie said on Halloween. Except now Buck knows better. Knows that everything was _not_ fine, that Eddie was participating in seedy fights for money (explains the expensive truck, at least), and was in such a dark, hurt place that he nearly killed someone. And the problem with that response is, for the first time in their friendship, Buck feels like he can’t trust what Eddie tells him. Because Eddie told him things were fine when they definitely weren’t.

So he keeps pushing.

“I wish I could go back and just fix things.” Buck tells Hen. It’s her first day back and he should probably give her more time to settle in before he unloads his problems on her, except she’s so easy to talk to he just falls into it.

Hen gives him a considering look. “To before the lawsuit?”

_Yeah_ , Buck thinks, first. Obviously he’d redo, or not do, the lawsuit. But what actually pops into his head is weeks before that mess, before the tsunami and his pulmonary embolism, getting dinner with Eddie at the beach after PT one day. He doesn’t even remember where they went or what they ate and there’s nothing to fix about the day. It’s simply the last time he remembers being relaxed and happy for a few hours. Not laser focused on getting better, getting his job back, rebuilding the bridges he’d burned over the lawsuit—clawing and fighting to be good enough.

And he realizes he’s still pushing, still fighting. It’s exhausting.

“I know you’re trying Buck. Everyone see’s how hard you’re trying to make it up to us. But you can’t go back. So maybe instead of trying so hard to fix a past mistake...”

Buck huffs out a breath and glances over to where Eddie’s restocking the truck.

“Look, we’ve all been through a lot, but that’s not what defines us. It’s how we chose to react. How we chose to move on.” 

“Thanks Hen. Have I said how good it is to have you back?” 

“It’s good to be back.” Hen says. Buck goes to help Eddie finish the restocking. 

* * *

“I hate to yell you this, Eddie, but I don’t think it’s gonna fit.” Buck says, and he puts every ounce of innuendo in his voice he can, hooks his thumb into his belt and glances sidelong through his lashes. 

Buck knows by now that it’s futile. He does it anyway— partly just to test Eddie’s reaction, but also because for that half second it takes Eddie to wave off his blatant flirting, he can live in the possibility of _what if_ , and that half second is a thrill every time. So Buck will happily die on this hill that is flirting with Eddie Diaz.

Eddie’s distracted by his own task, trying to figure out how to safely secure the skateboard harness within their frame while still allowing enough movement for it to be fun. Instead of glancing up with a predictably dismissive look, he reaches a hand back, blindly connecting with Buck’s wrist and hooking his fingers over it.

“I have faith in you.” Eddie says. 

It takes Buck several minutes to process the words, because accident or no, Eddie’s hand came within inches of brushing Buck’s crotch and his fingers are still curled fondly over the hand that Buck’s got propped on his belt buckle. 

Buck could blame the way that knocks the breath out of his lungs on the fact that he’s in the longest dry spell of his life, but no, his thing for Eddie has always been there, sometimes quietly under the surface, sometimes seizing control of his thoughts like now, but there either way. 

Eddie finally looks up, at the same time unhooking his hand from Buck’s to run it through his hair, mussing it endearingly. Buck follows the movement of Eddie’s fingers.

“Really no luck?” Eddie asks. 

Buck forcefully drags his focus back to the task at hand, which is not, in fact, getting Eddie into bed.

“No. But I can stop by the hardware store on my way home and we can finish after work tomorrow.” 

The smile Eddie gives him is one of those looks, one that keeps him coming back for more and dwelling on what if.

“Buck, it’s almost eleven. Nothing’s going to be open.” 

“On my way in to work then. Pick up a different size part, finish tomorrow, and surprise Chris on the one Saturday we have off this month. Check.”

Something Buck can’t read flickers across Eddies face. “Thanks. So I guess this is where we call it quits for tonight and head in.” 

They go inside, brushing against each other as they walk across the patio to the house. Buck figures he should give Eddie more space, give _himself_ more space, but it’s automatic, how closely he gravitates to Eddie. The garage had been hot and stuffy so Eddie’s skin is slick with sweat and his scent’s heavy in the air.

Eddie spots smears of glue on his shirt and yanks it off over his head as they step inside. His skin glows in the kitchen lights, accenting the movement of his muscles as he tosses the shirt down the hall towards the laundry. Buck walks into the table. Eddie looks over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow and a teasing smirk that should be insulting but instead makes Buck flush.

“You okay there, Buck?”

“Yeah, just distracted.” And horny, he doesn’t add. Maddie and Chimney were right, his needs to get back into dating again. He’s definitely tragic if the simple sight of Eddie shirtless, a rather common occurrence since they share a locker room, has him walking into things. 

It doesn’t help when Eddie grabs two beers from the fridge and presses one to his sweaty neck. He slides the other over to Buck, who guzzles it, which earns him another raised eyebrow from Eddie. Buck misses what Eddie says next, watching the goosebumps that rise on his skin in the wake of the the cold bottle and the condensation that beads against his collarbone. 

“I should go.” Buck says abruptly and he can tell he interrupted Eddie. He downs another big gulp of his beer to cover the awkwardness. 

“Alright.” Eddie draws the word out slowly. “You sure you’re okay to drive home, you seem kind of…tired? I can call you a Lyft and we can stop at the hardware store after shift?” 

Eddie steps forward, concerned, his hand coming up to curl around Buck’s arm, just above the elbow. Buck sways into the touch, like Eddie’s a magnet. 

“Or you’re always welcome to stay the night.” Eddie adds. If their positions were reversed, Buck would make _stay the night_ suggestive, but if there’s a hint of that in Eddie’s tone, Buck’s pretty sure it’s his imagination. It’s still tempting to let his imagination run with the idea, with closing the distance between them, with returning Eddie’s touch, sliding his hands over Eddie’s body, through his hair, with leaning in to kiss him, to taste the sweat on his skin. 

Buck jerks back, steps out of the loose curl of Eddie’s fingers, and covers by walking over to the sink to pour the rest of his beer down the drain. He’s not sure what to make of the expression on Eddie’s face, the slight frown and tilt of his head, part concern and part something else. He takes the earlier out Eddie gave him.

“Nah, I’m pretty beat. I should get home and get a good night’s sleep in my own bed. And I have that errand to run in the morning.” 

Eddie’s expression shifts into a full frown and his jaw tightens, like he knows Buck’s holding something back. “I’ll grab the part after shift tomorrow. You can sleep in.” 

“No, I said I can get it. The hardware store’s on my way to the station and completely out of your way home.” Buck’s frustration is clear in his voice, which only gets a deeper frown from Eddie. It’s a silly thing to be arguing about, but also not really what has Buck wound up and frustrated. 

“Fine.” Eddie drops into a chair and takes a slow, purposeful sip of his beer. Buck very intentionally does not watch his throat as he swallows.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He tosses his bottle into the recycling with a clang and still can’t help but brush against Eddie’s shoulder on his way to the door.

“Night.” Eddie calls after him. 

The warm night air smells slightly of the ocean, even as far inland as Eddie’s house, and he takes a moment leaning against his jeep to just breath it in. A few stars sparkle between wisps of low clouds. 

The reality is, Buck’s too wound up to want to go home and sleep. He considers going back inside, knows Eddie would let him even without explaination and with only a little teasing, but a restless, unsatisfying night on Eddie’s couch isn’t really what he wants either. He could go back inside and tell Eddie the truth, but putting his touch-starved loneliness over onto his best friend isn’t fair to Eddie. And the thought of how Eddie would probably take it, soft and kind and _understanding_ , like Buck’s a patient on a call, makes him cringe. 

He pulls out his phone; there’s one guy he’s been meaning to message back to meet up in person—seems nice, hot as long as the pictures are real, and works at a bar so they have that in common. Messaging after eleven is dicey when Buck’s not angling for just a booty-call, but he gets back an invite to meet the guy at work, so it’s sort of a date. He goes home and takes a quick shower first, since he smells like he’s been working in Eddie’s stuffy garage all evening, then heads over to the bar. 

The guy’s a good mixologist, but other than that the sort-of-date-slash-booty-call goes terribly and Buck leaves again before the bar closes, with the knowledge that that wasn’t really what he wanted either. 

The dark LA streets are busy despite it being after one am on a Thursday. Buck 1.0 probably would have had a decent time with the guy and Buck’s frustrated with himself for wanting something _more_ so badly he can’t even enjoy a simple hook-up anymore. He’s also just, uncomfortably, physically, frustrated. He misses skin to skin contact, as Abby put it, and remembers with bitter nostalgia being shocked at her admission it’d been a year since she’d had sex. It’s been almost that long since Ali.

At home, he jerks off quick and rough, no foreplay, no finesse, and comes thinking about Eddie’s hand hot on his skin, which no one but him ever has to know. It takes the edge off, enough that he falls asleep quickly after, but the real itch is deeper.

_Best_. _Day_. _Ever_. 

The heat of the last few days has let up a little and the park by Eddie’s house is nicely shaded. Chris’s joy over the skateboard was well worth the three evenings spent in Eddie’s stuffy garage and four separate trips for supplies. So, yeah, Buck wouldn’t change a thing as Carla walks Chris across the street for froyo and Eddie sits down next to him on the park bench.

“You sure you don’t want any froyo? I know you’re an ice cream snob, but it’s my treat and Carla has a punch card.”

“I just don’t understand frozen yogurt. But I don’t mind watching the skateboard if you want to get some?”

“Nah, I’ll eat what Chris can’t finish. Unless he gets something weird like cotton candy.” Eddie crinkles his nose in disgust and Buck’s heart lurches. 

Still, Buck wouldn’t change anything about the day, with the way Eddie’s expression keeps defaulting to a wide smile, like he just can’t help it, and there’s no trace of stress or worry in the relaxed line of his shoulders.

“Thanks for this.” Eddie says.

“Nah, you were the brains of the operation. I just supplied manual labor and maybe a little engineering support.” 

“True, but you’re a fantastic errand boy, so you get four stars and, maybe, ten percent of the credit.” Eddie nudges Buck’s shoulder with his then leaves it there, so they’re leaning into each other. “Also, you inspired the idea, with your Jim Abbott speech. So thanks again. Really.”

“Sure, whatever I can do.” _Anything. Always._

Eddie’s smile turns mischievous. “Help me get that monstrosity into the back of the truck?” Eddie stands and holds out his hand. Buck agrees with a chuckle and takes Eddie’s hand, wrapping his fingers around Eddie’s and letting him pull him to his feet. _Best day ever._

**Author's Note:**

> scene timeline:  
> 1\. during 2.8, towards the end  
> 2\. during 2.13 after Maddie’s taken to a hospital but before she reunites with Chim at the end  
> 3\. during 2.18, post Ali break up but before Eddie’s shield ceremony  
> 4\. sometime during or around 3.9  
> 5\. during 3.12, before and after skateboarding at the park
> 
> This is my first time doing anything from Buck's POV, so hopefully it works. The last time I tried for the 2nd half of The Ones Who Are Here, it was a disaster and I gave up to switch back to Eddie's. 
> 
> Next up, I have one more part in progress.
> 
> Kudos and comments appreciated, happy to hear what you liked or even what you thought could be different (just be pleasant about it).


End file.
